tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83551475134704744872014-10-04T21:32:58.459-04:00A Beautiful LifeThe musings of my beautiful life as a bald woman, a wife and a mother.Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.comBlogger95125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-77944327778286970002007-09-10T14:38:00.000-04:002007-09-10T03:04:04.154-04:00Check Out My New Digs!<span style="font-family:georgia;">Well, it's finally here. The day I can leave blogger behind. The day I can move on to bigger and better and Wordpressier things! </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" >Adiós Blogger...bwa ha ha ha!</span><br /><br />Imeant to do this about 6 hours ago, but shit (<span style="font-style: italic;">read kids and a splitting headache</span>) happens. <span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br />So, without further adieu, I say goodbye to "</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" >A Beautiful Life</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">", and hello to "</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" >monkeys and marbles</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">".</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br />That's right...the title of my new blog is "</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" >monkeys and marbles</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">"...I know...weird...I told ya the new title would be </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" >more me</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">!</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">So go check out my new digs, and remember to change your blogroll links, etc. to </span><a style="font-family: georgia;" href="http://www.monkeysandmarbles.com/">http://www.monkeysandmarbles.com</a><span style="font-family:georgia;"> (or </span><a style="font-family: georgia;" href="http://monkeysandmarbles.wordpress.com/">http://monkeysandmarbles.wordpress.com</a><span style="font-family:georgia;"> if you like...they both go the same place!)</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br />What are you waiting for....go!<br /></span>Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-76381387464327780452007-09-08T11:11:00.000-04:002007-09-08T12:53:43.104-04:00Coming Soon To A Browser Near You!I started this blog on January 1st, 2007. I have changed a lot since then.<br /><br />My <a href="http://thelifeofcate.blogspot.com/2007/07/diagnosis-depression.html">diagnosis of Post Partum Depression</a> in April initiated many of those changes. It was inevitably, really.<br /><br />I realized a few months ago that the title of my blog, "<span style="font-style: italic;">A Beautiful Life</span>", was bothering me. Not that I don't have a beautiful life...my husband is amazing, and more patient than I think I deserve sometimes. And have you seen my boys? They are my universe.<br /><br />But sometimes my life isn't so "<span style="font-style: italic;">Beautiful</span>". Sometimes it's downright shitty.<br /><br />I guess I felt/feel like I named this blog at a time when my eyes weren't fully open to what my life was really like. Or maybe I named it "<span style="font-style: italic;">A Beautiful Life</span>" in hopes that it would somehow transform my life into the "<span style="font-style: italic;">Beautiful Life</span>" I eluded to in the title, or I was deluded enough to think everything was hunky-dory.<br /><br />Either way, it's just <span style="font-style: italic;">not me</span>.<br /><br />I also need to <span style="font-style: italic;">get the fuck away from Blogger</span>! As you all know, I've had <a href="http://thelifeofcate.blogspot.com/2007/06/fckin-blogger.html">my share of problems</a> here. In fact, as I was trying to link back to my "Diagnosis: Depression" post in the previous sentence, Blogger laughed in my face and said "I don't think so, <span style="font-style: italic;">bitch</span>! Bwa ha ha ha!". Frankly, I'm sick of it.<br /><br />The last straw was last week when I realized that the post I published in mid-July about the birth of my brother's baby boy was gone. That's right...Blogger has eaten the post announcing the birth of my beautiful nephew, my brother's first son...the post I so lovingly wrote, complete with delicious newborn-baby-boy pictures. Gone....vanished into the Blogosphere, never to be read again.<br /><br />Not happy.<br /><br />So I am almost done creating my new blog over at Wordpress...brand spankin' new title and all. It will be a blog where I can be more honest...more myself...a blog where I won't feel the need to try to live up to a title like "<span style="font-style: italic;">A Beautiful Life</span>". A blog where my posts won't disappear into thin air (I will be re-posting the birth announcement of my nephew once I move over to my new place!).<br /><br />I just have some last minute tweaks to do, which I will hopefully be able to get done today. If all goes well, tomorrow will be the world premiere of Cate's new blog. A better blog.<br /><br />Stay tuned....Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-10377013968454166952007-09-06T21:57:00.000-04:002007-09-08T11:10:53.111-04:00An Imperfect 10<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">We have been waiting on pins and needles for over 3 weeks for results from Zander's blood tests. Well, the wait ended today...we finally got the phone call from the pediatrician's office.</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">The main reason the blood work was done was to confirm that Zander's iron deficiency had <span style="font-style: italic;">indeed</span> returned, and to find out what his current iron stores level is at. A child his age should have a level between 24 and 360...the higher the better, of course.</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Our little Zander is at 10.....</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">According to the reading we've done on iron deficiency in toddlers, here are some symptoms that can rear their ugly head:<br /><br /></span><ul><li>pale skin (<span style="font-style: italic;">uh...ya, except for the yellow tinge from his </span><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carotenodermia">Carotenemia</a><span style="font-style: italic;">!</span>)</li><li>fatigue (<span style="font-style: italic;">yup...except when he goes into super-hyper-temper-tantrum-spaz mode</span>)</li><li>irritability (<span style="font-style: italic;">ya...no shit!</span>)</li><li>decreased appetite (<span style="font-style: italic;">what a bonus for a kid who already has an eating disorder!</span>)<br /></li></ul> And if that wasn't enough, a toddler suffering from iron deficiency could suffer permanent mental and physical developmental problems, decreased attention span, and it also makes kids more susceptible to lead poisoning and infection. <span style="font-style: italic;">Fan-fucking-tastic</span>!<br /><br />In order to replenish Zander's iron stores, our pediatrician has put him on iron drops. Finally, a little control over the situation. He doesn't eat, his iron levels drop. His iron level drop, his appetite disappears. No appetite, no eat. This vicious cycle has been <span style="font-style: italic;">slowly killing me</span>.<br /><br />We got the iron drops this afternoon, and since he is supposed to take them about an hour after a meal, we were anxiously awaiting his first after-dinner iron "installment".<br /><br />I figured it would probably be less than scrumptious, so I took a taste to see what Zander was in for. You know what it tastes like? BLOOD! B-L-O-O-D! Blood! Nasty metallic-tasting blood, with a lovely everlasting aftertaste of <span style="font-style: italic;">blood</span>y<span style="font-style: italic;"> blood</span>! I was half expecting there to be a warning on the bottle. "Caution: May cause vampire-like tendencies and, in rare cases, permanent vampire-ism". Yak! But the only warning on the bottle tells of the high probability that the drops contained within will leave dark stains on you child's teeth. Attractive, no?<br /><br />So I loaded up a syringe of iron drops and a little water to dilute the heinousness of it, held a screaming, kicking, flailing Zander down on the couch and squirted it straight down his throat. I'm really looking forward to doing this 3 times a day. Joy.<br /><br />But, really, it's a small price to pay to get my happy, healthy Zander back. And we can always hope that his vampire habits will be curbed before he starts dating.Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-42825331474224493322007-09-05T13:59:00.000-04:002007-09-08T11:11:35.622-04:00I Still Manage To ImpressHubby made dinner last night. We had our first corn-on-the-cob of the season. It was delicious. Of course, it wouldn't be dinnertime in our house without shenanigans and goings-on!<br /><br /><br />hubby: (as I'm about to take my first bite from the cob) I hope it's completely cooked...I boiled them for 5 minutes.<br /><br />me: 5 minutes should do it. (I take a bite, pretending it's still raw)<br /><br />hubby: (looking slightly deflated) I guess 5 minutes isn't enough....?<br /><br />me: Just kidding! Ha! (I take a bite of corn with a wink and a mischievous grin) Mmmm...delicious and cooked to perfection!<br /><br />hubby: I can't believe you just did that! I totally couldn't tell that you were pretending!<br /><br />me: (saying with just a pinch of cockiness) I am an <span style="font-style: italic;">actress</span>!<br /><br />Zander: (turning towards me, a look of amazement and adoration on his face) Oh, <span style="font-style: italic;">WOW</span>!<br /><br /><br />I'm so glad that I still manage to impress my 2 year-old son. Hopefully that will last...Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-17230388061823211932007-09-02T23:06:00.000-04:002007-09-03T01:40:35.133-04:00There's A New Sheriff In TownThere's a new sheriff in town, and his name would be Zander. He's tough, he's not always fair and he takes no prisoners.<br /><br />You see, my dear little Zander has learned a new phrase...<span style="font-style: italic;">from who, I'm sure I have no idea!</span> This phrase would be "Stop Logan, NOW!"...although he does mix it up now and then with a "Logan Stop NOW!" or a "Stop Logan! Stop NOW!". But one thing you can count on, it is screamed from the depths of his little lungs every time, with extra special emphasis on "NOW!".<br /><br />Nice!<br /><br />So yesterday Zander was busy putting together his little Thomas train track...which he always does with his trusty plastic hammer, just to make sure the joints are "rea' toit!" <span style="font-style: italic;">(translation: real tight)</span>. As usual, as soon as Logan saw what Zander was doing he made his way over to promptly destroy what Zander had worked so diligently to create...making sure it was "rea' toit!", of course.<br /><br />And then, it came...like thunder, his voice booming in a way that I had not heard before, "Rogan, stop! NOW!". I found it very hard not to laugh my ass off...but being the model of self control that I am [snicker], I kept a completely straight face.<br /><br />Today, it has become clear that he's just making up the law to suit his fancy. Zander was sitting at the dining room table drawing when he noticed that Logan was crawling towards him. "Stop, Rogan! Stop NOW!". Did I mention that Logan was still about 8 feet away from him?<br /><br />This must be some new proximity bi-law that I am not aware of. <br /><br />I have submitted a formal request to Sheriff Zander, asking to be kept apprised of any amendments and/or additions to the current Laws of the House, so that I may do my best to stay on his good side.Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-68902532458105697932007-08-31T14:32:00.000-04:002007-08-31T15:54:59.944-04:00The Poet In MeOkay....in a bid to be as cool <a href="http://playgroupsarenoplaceforchildren.blogspot.com/2007/08/high-koo-fry-day.html">Jennifer aka Binky Bitch from Playgroups are No Place For Children </a> and <a href="http://amommystory.blogspot.com/">Cristina from A Mommy Story</a> I have taken a stab at this Haiku Friday thing....thanks ladies for launching this...what a fun idea!<br /><br />So, without further adieu...here is my attempt at Haiku. Hopefully it's not too painful!<br /><br /><br />my boys are sleeping<br />peace and quiet finally<br />I wish it would last<br /><br />just enough time for<br />some lunch, some cleaning, some rest<br />till it starts again<br /><br />when nap time is over<br />mad chaos and destruction<br />is hubby home yet?<br /><br />smile, it is Friday<br />thank God it's a long weekend<br />I really need it<br /><br />my wish for you all<br />a fantastical weekend<br />and sunny weather<br /><br />but in the meantime<br />have a Friday laugh on me<br />read <a href="http://thelifeofcate.blogspot.com/2007/08/when-poop-makes-you-cry.html">my poop story</a><br /><br />I promise my friends<br />you will have laughs aplenty<br />so go and enjoy<br /><br />my oldest now wakes<br />is it that time already?<br />my break was too short<br /><br />Have a great weekend everyone!Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-28307852011958195842007-08-31T13:08:00.000-04:002007-09-03T13:47:46.259-04:00When Poop Makes You CryI know what you're thinking. The title may lead you to believe that this post is about the eye-watering stench coming from my sons' toxic-waste-filled diapers...most likely Logan's. Well, you would be wrong.<br /><br />I now pose this question...in run-on-sentence form.<br /><br />What do you do when your son, who has <span style="font-style: italic;">just</span> finished lunch, poops while still in his booster seat and starts crying while he's pooping like it's hurting him and when he's done he just starts screaming at the top of his lungs like someone has set fire to his diaper and he doesn't stop when you pick him up out of his seat and you know that changing his diaper and ridding him of the nastiness in within said diaper will take the fiery pain away but because he has Reflux Disease he can't lie down for at least 15-20 minutes after he finishes eating and he <span style="font-style: italic;">just</span> finished eating and you don't dare change him while standing up because, while you have done it before, it's not the sort of thing you do when his diaper is <span style="font-style: italic;">loaded with danger</span> and you just want to take the pain away and get him calmed down before his screaming kicks his reflux into high gear???<br /><br />[phew...takes deep breathe]<br /><br />I'll tell you what you do...you make a huge ass of yourself. You prance around like an idiot. You do somersaults, <span style="font-style: italic;">even though there isn't much floor space and you haven't done one in years and you know the chances of hurting yourself are pretty good</span>. You make goofy faces and noises. You jump around, scratching your armpits and making "oo! oo! oo! ah! ah! ah!" sounds, pretending to be a monkey. You make up silly songs using your son's name and sing them at the top of your lungs. You sprint back and forth in front of the ottoman your son is standing at as fast as you can. You perform your own rendition of the Pee-Pee Dance. You play your bald head like a drum using your hands, performing such favourites as "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and "Hickory Dickory Dock". You run yourself to exhaustion acting like a massive tool, all to buy yourself 15 minutes of distraction for your son...just enough time for him to start digesting what's in his tummy so you can safely change his diaper.<br /><br />Then you look out your living room picture window to see a man standing on the roof of the school your house backs onto....looking at you...huge grin on his face...and you realize.....aw crap! Did he see the whole thing???<br /><br />At least I got Logan to turn his screams into laughter until I could change his diaper. All was well as soon as he had a clean, dry bum. I, on the other hand, need a nap!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Note To Self</span>: Close the curtains when any maintenance is being done on the school roof!</span>Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-28688638996593073712007-08-30T12:04:00.000-04:002007-08-31T10:58:02.606-04:00A Bad Day For A FallYesterday was a bad day for a couple of people in our family. Both Logan and Carlos' grandmother, Marcolina, had bad falls. Logan was left with a bump on the noggin, and a bruised ego. Marcolina wasn't so lucky.<br /><br />First I will tell you about Logan's fall. He has recently began climbing up on the couch by himself. No fear...no understanding of falling off furniture or the consequences of doing so. Isn't that a happy day for every parent?<br /><br />He is also not yet understanding the words "no", "stop" or "be careful". In fact, the grin on his face each time I utter these words indicates that he may believe they are just playful words such as "yay!" or "woohoo" or "wow".<br /><br />Back to the story. As is usual now, he scrambled onto the couch, wiggling and kicking and flailing, finally hoisting himself onto the couch. Then he proceeded to try to scale the side of the bookcase beside the couch. I knew I couldn't get to him in time, so I called his name. He turned around, wicked grin drawn across his face, and just looked at me. His mistake was standing at the edge of the couch when he turned around instead of sitting down like he usually does.<br /><br />It was as if the whole thing happened in slow motion. There was no way I could have stopped it. He just toppled over, falling from his standing position on the couch and landing flat on his back on the floor. The sound of his head hitting the wood floor made me unable to move. It was shockingly loud. Then came the screams. Ear piercing screams.<br /><br />It took a good few minutes to calm him down. This was his first big fall, and I think he was pretty shaken. You know it's bad when the TV doesn't calm him immediately...and it didn't...right away. But a few minutes later all was forgotten. Too much was forgotten, it appears. He was right back to his couch-climbing ways in no time, and it was obvious that no lesson was learned. But the important thing is that he wasn't injured.<br /><br />I wish I could say the same for Carlos' grandmother. Marcolina lives with Carlos' parents. She had a bad fall while they were at work, and couldn't get up. Luckily we had just bough an <a href="http://www.x10.com/security/pa5800_s.html">X10 personal security gadget</a> for her, and Carlos had installed it on Sunday.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.x10.com/security/pa5800_s.html"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 210px; height: 210px;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RteVSzYfy2I/AAAAAAAAAX0/YCldHJAB8g0/s320/X10+Personal+Assistance+Security.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104712852910885730" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The X10 Personal Assistance Voice Dialer</span><br /></div><br />She pressed the button on the heart pendant around her neck, and the system called Carlos' cell phone. He then called his mother, who left work immediately and headed home. When she got there she found Marcolina on the floor, her arm so swollen that she couldn't get up even with my mother-in-law's help. She ended up calling 911, and an ambulance came and took them to the hospital.<br /><br />I shudder to think of Marcolina lying on that cold basement floor, waiting 4 hours for someone to come home and help her (Carlos got the call from the system at 1:20pm...my mother-in-law isn't home from work until 5:30pm or later). I am so thankful that we installed and tested the system on Sunday, and that Marcolina had the presence of mind to use it. It was 25 minutes from the time Carlos got the call to when my mother-in-law got home.<br /><br />Poor Marcolina, 86 years old, fractured her arm. She's got a cast and everything. As if it wasn't hard enough for her to use her walker in the close quarters of her mother-in-law suite, now she has a cast to contend with. Luckily my mother-in-law had already planned a trip for her and her mother to visit family in Boston. They leave next week. Marcolina has been cleared to fly by her doctor. She will be pampered by her other daughter (Carlos' aunt), and her grandchildren. I'm sure her brightened spirit will help her heal faster.<br /><br />I asked Zander if he wanted to make his great grandmother a "Get Well Soon" card. He screamed "Yup!", and ran to the table, anxiously awaiting his box of craft supplies. He then spent the next hour carefully crafting the perfect card. I've never seen him focus like that...it was like he was on mission. Every sticker placed with precision, every stroke of the crayon specific and deliberate. He was so pleased with his creation that he was hesitant to give it to his great grandmother...so much so that he wouldn't let it leave his iron grip for 30 minutes.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RteXBzYfy4I/AAAAAAAAAYE/io5jFPzuYnk/s1600-h/Zander+drawing.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RteXBzYfy4I/AAAAAAAAAYE/io5jFPzuYnk/s320/Zander+drawing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104714759876365186" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">He wouldn't even look up for the camera!</span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RteW1DYfy3I/AAAAAAAAAX8/fSuGUDaGbLs/s1600-h/Zander%27s+masterpiece.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RteW1DYfy3I/AAAAAAAAAX8/fSuGUDaGbLs/s320/Zander%27s+masterpiece.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104714540833033074" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Wouldn't you love to be given a masterpiece like this? A Zander original!</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Hopefully we won't be getting any recorded messages from the X10 system again anytime soon. And hopefully Logan will start to understand the pain of launching himself off the couch...ya...that's never going to happen!<br /><br /><br /></div></div>Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-80009736620136207012007-08-27T12:46:00.000-04:002007-08-31T10:58:15.843-04:00Now That's An Accident Waiting To Happen!Zander was playing with the chairs in the dining room just after lunch today.<br /><br />He pulled out the chair with Logan's booster seat on it, then walked over to the ottoman where Logan was standing.<br /><br />Zander: Carr' Rogan!<br /><br />Me: You want me to carry Logan?<br /><br />Zander: N0! Carr' Rogan. Sit i' chair! <span style="font-style: italic;">(he points towards the chair that he has perfectly readied for Logan's arrival, puts his arms around Logan from behind and proceeds to try to lift him)</span><br /><br />Me: You want to carry Logan and put him in his chair?<br /><br />Zander: <span style="font-style: italic;">(squeals)</span> Ya! Ya!<br /><br />Me: Oh Zander, I don't think you can lift him. Maybe you can help mommy put Logan in his chair for snack time...okay?<br /><br />Zander: <span style="font-style: italic;">(sounding a little defeated, but still hopeful)</span> Okay.<br /><br />Now, Zander is a tall boy....but I don't think his current 22 pounds stand a chance against Logan's squat 30 pounds!Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-24913499947151944412007-08-26T17:26:00.000-04:002007-08-31T10:59:05.881-04:00The Cloud Has Started To LiftI've been stressed out about a lot of things for the past few months.<br /><br />I've been trying to find the right medication to able to feel like "me" again. I've been dealing with Zander's eating disorder <span style="font-style: italic;">(that's a whole other post)</span>. I've been working like mad to get this house ready for sale. I've been trying to keep my house spotless for the benefit of potential buyers...<span style="font-style: italic;">not an easy task with 1 and 2 year old boys destroying it as quickly as I was cleaning it!<br /></span><br />And then there was the stress of actually selling the house. Would we be able to sell it quickly? Would we be trying for months? Would we be able to get close-to-asking-price? <br /><br />All of this stress has manifested itself as an enormous, dark cloud hanging over my head, threatening to wreak hail and havoc at any given moment.<br /><br />But the cloud has started to lift.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RtIGpzYfy1I/AAAAAAAAAXs/J_rPd3AvcOE/s1600-h/P1040451-blog.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RtIGpzYfy1I/AAAAAAAAAXs/J_rPd3AvcOE/s320/P1040451-blog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103148643001551698" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The word SOLD has never sounded so sweet!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >NOTE: Before anyone thinks Canada in August requires long pants and sweaters, I will just say it was unseasonably cold the day this picture was taken (August 18th).</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></div></div>Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-84985197596432188962007-08-03T18:02:00.000-04:002007-08-31T10:59:19.325-04:00Cate UnpluggedSo....I've been MIA for a few weeks. I've been overwhelmed by <span style="font-style: italic;">so</span> many things.<br /><br />I was so very overwhelmed by your outpouring of support and caring comments and emails. I don't think I can every properly thank any of you for that. It has meant so much.<br /><br />I've been overwhelmed by the sheer number of posts still left unread in my Google Reader. I'm sure they are all beautifully written and pee-my-pants funny as usual....yet I've had no time to read them. I have no idea what is going on with all of my bloggy friends and daily reads, and that makes me feel crappy. And kind of lonely.<br /><br />I have been overwhelmed by all the work on the house that needed to be done in such a short period of time to be able to sell it. It's officially been on the market for two weeks now, and we <span style="font-style: italic;">still</span> have stuff to do. It's like the never-ending makeover!<br /><br />I've been overwhelmed by the return of too many aspects of <a href="http://thelifeofcate.blogspot.com/2007/07/diagnosis-depression.html">my PPD</a>, and am dealing as best I can with my change in medication. But I'm so very tired all the time. It's like I'm being forced to be lazy, if that makes any sense...I don't like it.<br /><br />I've been overwhelmingly overwhelmed by <a href="http://thelifeofcate.blogspot.com/2007/07/occupational-therapists-dietitians.html">my 2 year old's refusal to eat</a>. There have been a few ups and <span style="font-style: italic;">way too many</span> downs. This is the worst rollercoaster ride EVAH! <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >(Hi Sara, Jennifer and Heather...picked this word up from you...hope you don't mind me using it!)</span><br /><br />I'm overwhelmed with guilt for the fact that my wonderful brother and his wife had a beautiful baby boy on July 14th...my first nephew, and this fucking house-selling shit hasn't allowed us time to make the 3 hour trip to see them. I didn't even post an announcement or pics or anything on my blog! What kind of a sister/sister-in-law/aunt am I???<br /><br />All of this made me feel the need to unplug. Completely. I haven't posted anything. I haven't read anyone elses posts. I've checked my email every few days just to see if there are any emails from our Real Estate Agent....but I've only read about 8 emails in the past few weeks, and I rarely reply. I haven't been trying to be rude....I just need to completely cut off from everything and everyone.<br /><br />But I feel like I'm coming out of the cloud now. It might take a while before I'm back to almost-daily posts, but for what it's worth I'm glad to be back.<br /><br />I apologize to all of my fave bloggers who may have feel like I abandoned them. I promise I will be reading again soon...I may not comment on <span style="font-style: italic;">every</span> post, but I'll definitely be leaving a few words here and there!Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-78943747177021672932007-07-13T01:42:00.000-04:002007-08-31T10:59:39.315-04:00Diagnosis: DepressionI was diagnosed with Post-Partum depression in February 2007. It has taken me until now to be able to talk about it. I've been writing (more like <span style="font-style: italic;">crafting</span>) this post since April...carefully choosing my words....trying to properly describe what I've been dealing with. It's been difficult. I would write a couple of paragraphs, and then not touch it for a week. Then I would read what I had wrote, and scrap most of it...this has been going on for almost 4 months. I think this is as good as it's gonna get, folks....<br /><br />Carlos and I were aware of the symptoms...we knew the signs to look for. We had discussed PPD and "baby blues" in our prenatal classes when we were expecting Zander. We were reminded of what to watch for by our doctor after each of our boys were born. But I was ambushed...it snuck up on me...on us...<br /><br />I went through my days thinking that everything was okay. Until one day in January. Zander looked at me suddenly with an odd look on his face...and then started to laugh. What was he laughing at? I was sobbing...sobbing without realizing I was sobbing...how did I not know I was sobbing? And Zander, being 18 months old and not understanding what mommy was really doing, thought the whole thing was funny.<br /><br />It was as if I was being rudely awakened by a splash of ice water. What was going on? What had been going on...for too long. I had a sudden clarity akin to an out-of-body experience. I was floating over my life...looking down on myself for the past few months. I didn't like what I was seeing.<br /><br />I had been so deeply disappointed by the inability to breastfeed either of my sons. More so than I realized until now. Looking back, I cried. I cried daily. It would take the littlest thing to set me off...sometimes nothing. Feeding Logan a bottle. Zander resting his hand on my breast while I was carrying him upstairs for a nap. Seeing anything to do with babies, mothers, breastfeeding, anything on TV.<br /><br />Sometimes I would be fine after shedding just a few tears. Sometimes it was almost impossible to stop.<br /><br />I had so much guilt. Too much guilt. Guilt over everything to do with my sons. If one or both of them got sick, <span style="font-style: italic;">it wouldn't have happened if I had been able to breastfeed...why didn't I try harder? Why did I give up after only six months of torture and agony? A good mom would have kept trying.</span> If Logan had a bad episode with his GERD, <span style="font-style: italic;">it wouldn't have happened if he hadn't been premature. I must have done something to make my water break early. I shouldn't have lifted that box. I should have taken it easier. How could I do this to my child? How could I have put this awful disease on him? How could I have caused my son so much pain and agony...what kind of mother does that?</span> If Zander fell while he was running around playing,<span style="font-style: italic;"> I should have been there to catch him. I should have stopped him from getting hurt. I should have picked up all of the toys over and over again all day so that there was no chance he would trip on one of them.</span> Sounds ridiculous now, but back then these thoughts seemed completely rational.<br /><br />I would cry at the drop of a hat. When I saw a silly commercial. Whenever one or both of the boys would do something funny, silly, cute...I would just lose it. While I watched movies, whether they were sad, funny, scary...didn't matter. Whenever I saw a live musical performance of any kind on TV I would cry...it was so odd.<span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><br />Libido? What is that? I won't get into any detail...'cause there aren't any to tell. Suffice it to say, my husband is an amazingly patient man.<br /><br />My fatigue was almost debilitating at times. I could have sleep all day if I had been given the opportunity. I caught myself falling asleep while watching the boys during the day....I slept while they slept...as soon as Carlos got home I would take a nap. It just went on and on.<br /><br />I started to have anxiety attacks when Logan was only a few months old. Every time Logan had an episode. Every time Zander would gag on the tiniest bit of texture in his food and throw up. Every time we had to leave the house. <span style="font-style: italic;">Every. time.</span> I would transform into Mrs. Hyde. I had no control of what I was doing. It was like I was sitting in the corner of the room watching this crazy lady yelling, screaming, crying, slamming doors, throwing things, hyperventilating. And the worst part of all of this was that my boys were witness to this temporary insanity. That still upsets me.<br /><br />I was so sensitive about everything that an innocent comment would be perceived as harsh criticism, or even a personal attack.<br /><br />And even though all of this seemed like completely normal and rational behavior to me at the time, I was hiding it from my husband. It was as if a subconscious part of me new something was wrong but thought I could deal with it on my own. I was fully aware of how hurt and sad I could get when I thought of missing out on the joys of breastfeeding, of how easily I shed my tears...<span style="font-style: italic;">but I'll get over it...it will get better day by day...there's no need to worry Carlos about this. He has enough on his plate already.</span><br /><br />It was Zander's laughter at my sobs that woke me up. It was a slap on the face. My little boy thought it was funny that I was sobbing. My little boy had seen me sobbing often enough that it didn't scare him...it was a normal occurrence.<br /><br />That night I told Carlos all about what I was going through...what I had been going through for months. He was blindsided. I had been hiding it so well that he had no idea what was going on. He's never said as much, but I believe he feels he should have seen the signs...recognized I was in trouble. I don't think he understands how subconsciously determined I was to keep all of this from him...<span style="font-style: italic;">if he found out he will think I am a weak person and a bad mother....I could deal with this on my own.</span><br /><br />The next day I called the doctor's office to make an appointment. Carlos took time off work to come with me while my mom watched the boys.<br /><br />I sat in front of my doctor, as Carlos held my hand, and started to tell her what had been happening...and then the tears came. I couldn't hold them back...they flowed freely and fiercely as I described my worst moments from the last few months.<br /><br />My doctor, who is so caring and friendly, smiled softly and said something that surprised me. "I've been expecting this. Women with babies who have health problems have a much higher risk of PPD...and you have two very high-needs children".<br /><br />After much tearful discussion, my doctor prescribed me some medication. Within a few days I felt more like myself than I had in months. That first weekend was the first time I didn't have an anxiety attack while getting myself and the boys ready to have dinner with my in-laws. It was incredible. Carlos actually noticed the change before I did. I have felt <span style="font-style: italic;">so</span> good ever since.<br /><br />Unfortunately, with everything that's been going on with the sale of our current house and negotiations for the new house, with Zander's eating disorder, with Logan's teething, with my isolation from <span style="font-style: italic;">everyone</span> (due to my allergies to....well....being outside in pretty much any weather, I can't go anywhere with the boys by myself, so I'm stuck here at home alone during the day. Logan's GERD turned us into a family of hermits who were scared to go anywhere, my family is 2.5 hours away and Carlos' family lives on the opposite side of the city.), I have felt myself starting to slip again. The anxiety is creeping back. The over-sensitivity is creeping back. That fatigue is here. This time, though, I realize I can't do this on my own. I have an appointment to talk to my doctor about a medication change.<br /><br />I have to say, as hard as all of this has been, I can't imagine how much more difficult it could have been...would have been...had I not had my blog to vent all of my thoughts....had I not had so many wonderful people...so many strong fellow-moms...lending their support, as well as <a href="http://www.suburbanoblivion.com/2007/06/20/depression-a-view-from-the-inside/">sharing</a> <a href="http://www.blogger.com/diva%20cuphttp://www.suburbanoblivion.com/2007/06/22/depression-and-medication/">their</a> <a href="http://www.velveteenmind.com/velveteenmind/2007/06/im-not-a-scient.html">own</a> <a href="http://playgroupsarenoplaceforchildren.blogspot.com/2007/06/feeling-blah-gy.html">experiences</a>, no matter how personal. I shudder to think how much more difficult this could have been...and I thank all of the amazing Blogland friends I have made. I can never tell you know much you have helped me during these past few months...<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">***I just noticed that I am finally publishing this...on Friday the 13th...which coincidentally has always been my lucky day....hopefully that's a good omen...<br /><br /></span></span>Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-32380912486501571632007-07-12T15:36:00.000-04:002007-08-31T11:00:32.009-04:00And Now For Some Comic ReliefAfter all of the doom and gloom posts of late, what with all the shit that's been going on here, I thought it was time for some <span style="font-style: italic;">much needed</span> comic relief...and my son Zander was more than happy to oblige.<br /><br />Allow me to set the scene. It was bath time last night. Carlos had already run the bath, and everything was ready. As usual, we brought both of the boys upstairs into Zander's room to strip them down for their bath. Zander was stripped down first. Then it was Logan's turn. That's when our noses were hit with something so foul...and that foulness was Logan's diaper.<br /><br />Carlos: Aw, man! Logan! How can someone so cute smell <span style="font-style: italic;">so</span> bad?<br /><br />Logan: A ba da....pfpfpfpfpfpfp (I'm not sure how to translate this, but as far as I can tell it means something like <span style="font-style: italic;">"Ha! That's what you get for feeding me turkey stew for dinner, old man!"</span>)<br /><br />Carlos: [cough] [weeze] [cough] Maybe we should put a diaper on Zander until Logan is read for the bath...??? [cough] This might take a while to clean up.....[choke]<br /><br />Me: He should be okay....Zander...do you have to go pee?<br /><br />Zander: No!<br /><br />Me: Are you sure?<br /><br />Zander: No pee pee....<br /><br />Me: Do you want to go on the potty?<br /><br />Zander: Pott'! No no pee pee poo....<br /><br />Me: Okay....but tell mommy if you have to pee on the potty.<br /><br />Carlos: I can hardly breathe...this is so nasty! Yak!<br /><br />Me: Do you need help?<br /><br />Carlos: No...I got it...<br /><br />Me: Good...'cause I didn't really want to help you anyway! [smirk]<br /><br />Carlos: Ummm.....honey? What's that sound?<br /><br />Me: (I turn around to find the source of said sound) Why that's your son pissing into the heating vent, dear!<br /><br />Zander: Pee! Pee! A <span style="font-style: italic;">(meaning "I")</span> pee pee!<br /><br />Me: Yes, Zander...you peed...all over the floor and in the vent...<br /><br />Zander: A wet!<br /><br />Me: Yes, Zander...you're wet...and so is the floor....and the heating ducts....<br /><br />Carlos: Here's a receiving blanket...use this....(he throws it over to me)<br /><br />I start wiping it up....<br /><br />Zander: (he takes a step back to watch me clean up his mess....and starts to pee again) Pee pee!<br /><br />Me: (laughing hysterically) Yes, Zander....you're peeing....<br /><br />Zander: (nodding in agreement) A PEE!<br /><br />We all had a good laugh. We needed that...<br /><br />I am so thankful that there are wood floors in his room, and that a warm bath was waiting for them just a few feet down the hallway!Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-72051218714695719232007-07-10T23:13:00.000-04:002007-07-10T23:53:07.853-04:00At Least My Thumb Is Still Firmly AttachedIt seems that a few of my bloggy friends are concerned about the state of my thumb. I am glad to report that it is still firmly attached to my hand, and has returned to it's natural shade of pink. Thank you so much for your concern and well wishes...<br /><br />I wish I had more good news...unfortunately this is where the story goes downhill...you know...the direction shit runs...like the shit that has been the past few days....the shit that has kept me from posting an update on my thumb so people wouldn't worry needlessly...<br /><br />Today was not a good one. Zander's <a href="http://thelifeofcate.blogspot.com/2007/07/occupational-therapists-dietitians.html">mealtime struggles</a> have gotten worse. I guess I <a href="http://passthechocolate.blogspot.com/2007/06/you-jinxed-me.html">jinxed</a> myself by talking about his <a href="http://thelifeofcate.blogspot.com/2007/07/flying-high.html"><span style="font-style: italic;">one</span> good meal</a>. So maybe writing of how bad it has gotten will jinx me in reverse....????<br /><br />With each meal, Zander's intake has decreased. Today he had 2 ounces of toddler supplemental formula for dinner...that's all...no solids whatsoever. Meanwhile his 13-months-his-junior little brother happily savoured jarred turkey stew, complete with peas and little bits of potato and carrots, jarred bananas and graham crackers dessert and a few mandarin slices cut into little bits.<br /><br />My heart swells with pride as I praise one son for trying new foods...new textures...for thriving in a way we never expected when he was born so prematurely....and that same heart breaks for my other son as he struggles with each meal...unable to find joy in eating...screaming as if we are punishing him by trying to feed him...wasting away before our eyes...<br /><br />I'm being pulled in two completely opposite emotional directions. I feel like I'm being torn in half...right down the middle.<br /><br />But hey...at least my thumb is still firmly attached....Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-57369518163710866542007-07-07T13:45:00.000-04:002007-07-07T14:05:50.526-04:00Umm...I Don't Think My Thumb Is Supposed To Be Purple...When I woke up this morning my thumb was a big swollen purple throbbing digit of fiery pain. It's killing me. It's so swollen that I can't bend it, and if I try I feel like my skin is going to split open and spew forth all kinds of thumb-stuffing....pretty picture, ain't it?<br /><br />We are worried that it's some type of nasty infection, since I have a small cut at the end of my thumb....hopefully I didn't get B.I.N primer in my blood stream....I don't think that would be as fun as <a href="http://thelifeofcate.blogspot.com/2007/07/flying-high.html">my fume-high</a>.<br /><br />I can't go to the ER because the wait would be at least 12 hours. And Carlos is gone in a rented van to bring boxes to storage....and as much as I love my MIL <span style="font-style: italic;">(who is here right now to help me)</span>, she can't deal with the boys on her own for that long.<br /><br />I can't go to any of the area walk-in clinics because half of them are closed and the other half have stopped taking patients for the day due to long wait times.<br /><br />So I guess I will just sit here and wait for my thumb to fall off....<br /><br />Oh...did I mention that it's the thumb on my right hand? And that I'm right handed? So on the last weekend we have before the house is officially on the market, I am <span style="font-style: italic;">completely</span> useless. Isn't that the way it always goes? We actually have actually have a running joke about the bad luck my family has always had...and continues to have. One day I will tell you about the shit my parents have had to wade through over the years.<br /><br />Well, I guess I should stop typing...especially since I shriek with pain every time I hit the space bar. MaybeIshouldstopusingspaces....no?Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-9729635545122508392007-07-06T00:26:00.000-04:002007-07-06T03:43:07.238-04:00Flying HighThat's right....it's after midnight, and I'm flying high....not because <a href="http://thelifeofcate.blogspot.com/2007/07/occupational-therapists-dietitians.html">the Zander situation</a> has suddenly and miraculously righted itself, although we <span style="font-style: italic;">have</span> made progress.<br /><br /><blockquote><span style="font-size:85%;">He didn't have anything but a couple of spoonfuls of pureed fruit and some formula for lunch, but dinner was better. We put nothing pureed in front of him...just whole cooked veggies. There were green beans, peas & carrots, corn, and some steak. We put butter on all of the veggies since he really likes butter on his toast and likes salty things. And if it helps him gain a little weight, all the better. He played in it. He touched his food. </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >He touched his food! </span><span style="font-size:85%;"> This probably doesn't sound like a big deal, but for someone like Zander it's huge. His hands were greasy with melted butter, and he licked some of it off. He's never done this before. By the end of dinner he had eaten 3 pieces of green beans, part of a kernel of corn and fed himself a yogurt cup. </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Major</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> progress!</span></blockquote><br />But that's not why I'm flying. I'm flying because...well...I believe I'm high. You see, I am currently painting the nasty-ass 80's tile back splash in the kitchen. And of course since it's ceramic tile, it has to be primed before it is painted. Primed with something that will stick to a non-porous surface such as ceramic tile.<br /><br />I'm using <a href="http://www.zinsser.com/product_detail.asp?ProductID=10">Zinsser B.I.N primer</a>. It sticks to anything. Even glass. And I'm pretty sure it's laced with some sort of airborne LSD or PCP. I'm high as a kite. Perhaps the area I am working in is not ventilated well enough....maybe because my kitchen is so friggin' small and closed in!?!<br /><br />Anyway, I'm starting to come down now...guess the ride is over. Too bad...I was starting to enjoy it....;-)<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">*** Stay tuned for before and after pics of my kitchen facelift. ***</span>Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-42991411173290237222007-07-04T20:47:00.000-04:002007-07-05T00:24:37.097-04:00Occupational Therapists & Dietitians & Speech Language Pathologists! Oh my!Throw a Psychologist and a Consulting Pediatrician into the mix, and that's about right. These are the people helping us with Zander's eating problem, which is now being referred to <span style="font-style: italic;">(by the aforementioned medical professionals)</span> as an eating <span style="font-style: italic;">disorder</span>. Wow...amazing how an 8-letter word can be so fucking scary.<br /><br />Zander is now 26 months old...and the only fruits and veggies he eats are pureed to a smooth nothingness. He gags at the slightest bit of texture. He's scared to touch his food. He won't eat crackers unless they're wee little goldfish crackers (and he seems to have <a href="http://thelifeofcate.blogspot.com/2007/06/did-you-know-that-goldfish-crackers.html">an interesting relationship with them</a>). He won't eat cookies. He won't eat normal cereals, only infant pasty-nasty infant cereal. This kid is scared of ice cream.....<span style="font-style: italic;">ice cream</span>!<br /><br />He <span style="font-style: italic;">will</span> eat small bits of pizza (pizza night is always happy and relaxing). He <span style="font-style: italic;">will</span> eat some little bites of chicken if he's in a good mood. We can even get him to eat fish...<span style="font-style: italic;">if</span> he's in a fishy kinda mood. Toast is a staple. French fries...bring 'em. Mind you, this progress was made over months and months of trying, trying and trying again....making sure we eat altogether at the table...letting him feed us...cleaning up his puke....so much puke....entirely too much puke...and being as patient as humanly possible. And all while dealing with a preemie with GERD. Overwhelming? <span style="font-style: italic;">You betcha!</span><br /><br />Our physician referred us to a Consulting Pediatrician, who referred us to an Occupational Therapist at the Children's Hospital in Ottawa. The OT had us come in for a series of "information sessions" for parents of infants and toddlers with eating disorders. We attended the second session today.<br /><br />Last weeks' session was an introduction of sorts. Today's session included a Speech Language Pathologist...'cause it's all linked ya know. Eating/chewing and speech use the same muscles in the mouth and tongue. If you aren't eating and strengthening those muscles, in all likelihood your speech development will be delayed. Great...<br /><br />After the SLP had spoken to the group of parents (there are parents of 6 children in the group), we spoke with her privately about Zander's speech. You see....I had been worried about it. He said his first few words around 10 months....and then nothing. No new words. For months. Then he suddenly picked up where he left off, and his vocabulary began to grow. Slowly. But at around 22 months he gained mega-momentum....we're talking Mach 10 here. There were weeks where he would average 2 to 5 new words <span style="font-style: italic;">a day</span>! He was word-crazy, and we were basking in his new found communication and conversational skills. But there was just one problem....<br /><br />He only said/says the first syllable of multi-syllabic words. For instance, carpet is "car", pirate is "pi" or "pa", brother is "bruh", diaper is "di"...you get my drift. He <span style="font-style: italic;">has</span> started to say complete words such as "bubble" and "daddy"....but that took a loooong time.<br /><br />According to the SLP, this is not a normal pattern of speech development. Most toddlers will repeat a sound ("baba" for bottle), not just chop the end syllable(s) off of the word. She did indicate that he sounded like he was progressing from that stage and starting to catch up to his peers, but she has asked us to get our names on the waiting list for Speech Therapy. Goodie....<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span></span>Oh...and there's one more thing. During the SLP's talk we learned that most toddlers' first words start with with "b", "p" or "m" and that the hard "c" sound or k sound is not usually developed until well after a year of age...yet Zander's first words were "cup", "cat" and "car". During our one-on-one with the SLP, she speculated that Zander may have suffered from reflux like his younger brother. Oh God....all those nights during his first 8 months when he screamed and screamed...and we, being first-time parents, thought it was teething....he may have been in pain from reflux...if we just had've known....he could have been on medication to spare him the pain....<br /><br />Great....some more guilt for my big ol' mommy-guilt pile.<br /><br />Before we left, we were instructed to stop spoon feeding Zander any of his pureed foods....if he doesn't feed himself, he doesn't eat. We are also not supposed to push him...if he doesn't want to eat, he just won't eat. And if he won't eat or throws up from gagging, we are supposed to act like it doesn't bother us and remain calm. And if he doesn't eat anything for dinner, we are supposed to send him to bed hungry because he has to be taught to understand and recognize his hunger. Wow...purposely starving your toddler....isn't that every mom's dream? <span style="font-style: italic;">(note my biting sarcasm...)<span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span></span>This is normally the part where I try to find the silver lining...the "it could be worse" spiel...and it <span style="font-style: italic;">could</span> be worse. We have met the parents of a 2-year old little boy at our information sessions...he's never had solid food, he gags when he sees his parents eat, he gags when they are grocery shopping, he gags when he smells food....he's only on formula...and he has yet to say a word. So I know it could be worse...much worse.<br /><br />But that doesn't help me tonight. Because tonight my beautiful 26-month old little boy ate a couple of pieces of macaroni and drank some toddler formula for dinner....that's all...nothing more. And I had to act like it didn't bother me, which it did. I had to remain calm...and I am <span style="font-style: italic;">so</span> not calm.<br /><br />There will be a Registered Dietitian at next weeks' session...and I'm scared. Seriously...I used to think I was a strong woman, but I'm not sure how much more I can take....<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /></span>Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-62575392622286455322007-07-03T12:26:00.000-04:002007-07-03T15:01:18.869-04:00In My Absence<span style="font-size:100%;">I have been away from the Blogosphere for a bit. Actually, I pretty much dropped of the bloggy scene all together. In order to get everyone caught up, here is a list of what has transpired during my absence:<br /><br /><br /><br />My wonderful husband gave me 7 days of birthday....gifts every day for a week. Talk about earning points!<br /><br />Logan popped out a tooth on top, and has three more coming through at the same time. They will probably all be out within a week...<span style="font-style: italic;">poor little guy!</span><br /><br />Zander got a haircut...his second one...<br /><br />My mother came by train to stay with us </span><span style="font-size:100%;">again to watch the kids so that we could </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">actually</span> get some work done on the house.<br /><br />Logan got the mother of all fat lips </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">(his first one...what a milestone...)</span> when he tried to climb over a jumbo pack of paper towels...instead of making it safely over the plastic-wrapped pack of 6 jumbo rolls of paper towels, he slammed his face into the wood floor...not good...<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RoqbreNgarI/AAAAAAAAAXk/DpnJsL4VZk8/s1600-h/Logan%27s+Fat+Lip.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 260px; height: 147px;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RoqbreNgarI/AAAAAAAAAXk/DpnJsL4VZk8/s320/Logan%27s+Fat+Lip.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083046300587420338" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">This is how his lip looked right after it happened.<br />The next day, it looked like he'd had collagen injections overnight, and was wearing lipstick!</span><br /><br /></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />The following day Zander decided he wanted a fat lip like his little brother, so he got himself one to match. Fortunately Zander heals much quicker than Logan, 'cause it was a doozy!<br /><br />We went to a parent group (the first of 5 sessions) at CHEO, the local children's hospital, for Zander's eating "disorder"...scary, but nice to know we aren't the only ones with a 2 year old who is still on formula and pureed fruits and vegetables...more on that later...<br /><br />Logan stood without holding onto anything for support for the first time.<br /><br />My dad came to visit and to pick up my mom.<br /><br />Zander counted from 1 to 10 for the first time. He counted the bolts that came out of a spare bed that Carlos and my dad took apart.<br /><br />Logan climbed the stairs all the way to the second floor for the first time...he kept looking back at us with a big grin as if to say "Look mom...I'm doing it!"...<span style="font-style: italic;">too cute!</span><br /><br />My mom and dad went home with a shit-load of stuff that we purged and gave to them and/or my brother and his wife....our house seems a little less cluttered now.<br /><br />My in-laws came over to help us with the <del>jungle</del> backyard...looks fantastic!<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">My parents celebrated their 35th wedding anniversary on July 1st, which is Canada Day! </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(Happy anniversary mom and dad!)</span> </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">When I was little, my dad used to tell my brother and I that the fireworks were for their anniversary. And we were so convinced! Man, was I embarrassed when one of my little friends told me the truth...I was teased relentlessly...thanks a lot, dad...ya big joker!</span><br /><br />Logan was <span style="font-style: italic;">finally</span> moved from our bedroom to his very own bedroom....and he sleeps better in there than he ever did in our room (except when he slept in bed with us). Woohoo! Mommy and daddy have their room back!<br /><br />I think that's it. If I think of anything else, I'll let ya know!<br /><br />It's good to be back! Now that I've caught up on my own blog...I have to catch up on your blogs...hopefully it will only take a couple of weeks to catch up! ;-)<br /><br /></span>Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-72689629522120532072007-06-24T22:58:00.000-04:002007-07-03T14:08:37.140-04:00I Rock!So says <a href="http://www.absolutelybananas.com/2007/06/rock-on-girl-bloggers-rock-on.html">Jenny from Absolutely Bananas</a>. And you know what...I <span style="font-style: italic;">so</span> do! Jenny's obviously a great judge of character!<br /><br />Now it is my turn to pass this award on to other deserving Rockin' Girl Bloggers. Since I read <span style="font-style: italic;">so</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">many</span> girl bloggers who rock, I am going to list all the Rockin' Girl Bloggers I read whether they have or have not already received this most prestigious of awards...'cause even if they've already received the award, they at least deserve another mention! <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">(please pick up your bloggity bling at the bottom of this post...)</span></span><br /><br />Here goes!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.absolutelybananas.com/">Absolutely Bananas</a>. Obviously this girl rocks 'cause she recognized that <span style="font-style: italic;">I</span> rock! I love reading her blog...man, she gets me laughing! And this girl's got <span style="font-style: italic;">mad</span> Photoshop skillz!<br /><a href="http://mommybrainvictim.wordpress.com/"><br /></a><a href="http://mommybrainvictim.wordpress.com/">Families are like fudge...</a> This mom, who has the same name as one of my fave aunts, is honest and funny....and has a small addiction to baby carriers! ;-)<br /><br /><a href="http://sarahviz.blogspot.com/">In the Trenches of Mommyhood...</a> I love reading about her and her boys. She's a real mom!<br /><br /><a href="http://passthechocolate.blogspot.com/">Pass The Chocolate</a>. I love Shauna and her blog. Her SIL stories are a hoot, and she's one of the friendliest bloggers I know!<br /><br /><a href="http://plainjanemom.com/">Plain Jane Mom</a> I love this girl! I don't know where she gets the time to do all of her GRITs, but I love them! I don't comment as much as I would like...I don't have time after reading it all!<br /><br /><a href="http://playgroupsarenoplaceforchildren.blogspot.com/">Playgroups Are No Place for Children</a> I can't say enough about this girl. She's funny, she's smart, she's honest...she rocks!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.suburbanoblivion.com/">Suburban Oblivion</a> Sara's blog is one of the first I started reading on a daily basis, and I loved it from the start. She's funny, brutally honest and pulls no punches. And funny doesn't begin to describe her! This girl's got "balls"!<br /><a href="http://kymburleev.blogspot.com/"><br />Temporary? Insanity</a> I just started to read this blog recently, but I feel like I've known her forever. Really cool mom!<br /><br /><a href="http://queenofshake-shake.blogspot.com/">The Queen of Shake-Shake</a> Yet another brutally honest blogger...this girl lets it all hang out. Fantastic! The Queen is a strong woman, a real mom, and makes me laugh till I pee! I love this blog!<br /><br /><a href="http://lifewithbriar.blogspot.com/">Tumble Dry</a> One of the most eloquent writers I know. I love her stories. And her girls....man, they're gorgeous! Smart and funny. I've loved her blog for a long time. In fact, she's the second blog I started to read on a daily basis.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.twas-brillig.com/">'Twas Brillig</a> A recent find, but one of the best. I love this blog. Her story-telling skillz <span style="font-style: italic;">rock</span>!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.untanglingknots.com/">Untangling Knots</a> Karla...what can I say. She's the first blogger I ever followed daily...well before I started blogging myself. She is one of the strongest people I know. This girl is <span style="font-style: italic;">funny</span>! She's an amazing person and, though I've never met her in person, I definitely think of her as a friend.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.velveteenmind.com/">Velveteen Mind</a> I haven't been reading Megan's blog for long, but I was hooked instantly!<br /><br />And now for the bling. You can choose from the original Rockin' Girl Blogger bling<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RoqOluNgamI/AAAAAAAAAW8/EX-cqn7W160/s1600-h/Rockin+Girl+Blogger.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RoqOluNgamI/AAAAAAAAAW8/EX-cqn7W160/s320/Rockin+Girl+Blogger.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083031908152011362" border="0" /></a><br />or you can drop the "Girl", and get some Rockin' Blogger bling thanks to <a href="http://othejoys.blogspot.com/2007/06/rockers.html">Oh, The Joys</a> <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >(she has a couple more than the ones here)</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RoqPf-NgapI/AAAAAAAAAXU/kzAIdhObMHE/s1600-h/rockinbloggerpink_2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RoqPf-NgapI/AAAAAAAAAXU/kzAIdhObMHE/s320/rockinbloggerpink_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083032908879391378" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RoqPX-NgaoI/AAAAAAAAAXM/3gNEiSWLAu4/s1600-h/rockinbloggercatwoman.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RoqPX-NgaoI/AAAAAAAAAXM/3gNEiSWLAu4/s320/rockinbloggercatwoman.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083032771440437890" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RoqPReNganI/AAAAAAAAAXE/npmN8uYQQTs/s1600-h/rockinblogger_3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RoqPReNganI/AAAAAAAAAXE/npmN8uYQQTs/s320/rockinblogger_3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083032659771288178" border="0" /></a>Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-78872865983934392182007-06-24T14:02:00.000-04:002007-06-24T14:22:36.571-04:00Print, Damn Blogger...Print!In the words of <a href="http://www.absolutelybananas.com/">Jenny of Absolutely Bananas fame</a>, <span style="font-style: italic;">DOWN with Blogger! Up with Wordpress!</span><br /><br />My mother wanted to print my tribute to my dad on our birthday so that he could read it. Such a simple request. But would Blogger oblige? <span style="font-style: italic;">Of course not</span>. It prints the first page fine, but the next few pages are nothing but my avatar. WTF?<br /><br />So I imported the post to my Wordpress trial blog and guess what. It prints fine from there.<br /><br />It seems my exodus from Blogger will be sooner than planned. Stay tuned...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">DOWN with Blogger! Up with Wordpress!<br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">DOWN with Blogger! Up with Wordpress!<br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">DOWN with Blogger! Up with Wordpress!</span><br /><br />Feel free to chant with me....Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-38997720843721403422007-06-23T10:28:00.000-04:002007-06-24T14:20:36.950-04:00Two Pees In A Potty<span style="font-size:100%;">Make that three pees....three pees in a potty.<br /><br />After rethinking our <a href="http://thelifeofcate.blogspot.com/2007/06/pondering-potty-purchase.html">potty choice</a> </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(upon closer inspection, the potty bench had some "features" that weren't suitable for our boys)</span></span>, we decided upon <a href="http://www.babybjorn.com/Eng/produkter/Bathroom/BABYBJORN-Potty-Chair/">this plain ol' potty</a> which was the one I had originally wanted anyway.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rn6tOwPr5iI/AAAAAAAAAW0/T8iHEp5WU-Y/s1600-h/Baby+Bjorn+Potty+Chair.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 223px;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rn6tOwPr5iI/AAAAAAAAAW0/T8iHEp5WU-Y/s320/Baby+Bjorn+Potty+Chair.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079687898700965410" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Introducing the <strong>BABYBJÖRN Potty Chair</strong></span><br /><br /></div><br />It's a great little potty chair. Colourful for the kids, lightweight, nothing to distract the boys from the task at hand....and best of all, it's sooo easy to clean.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">Yesterday was the first day we tried Zander on the potty. At first he was a little uncomfortable. Imagine sitting on what is basically a hole for the first time. Now imagine Zander squirming from side to side, backwards and forwards, trying to get his bum on "solid ground". It was all I could do to not laugh out loud!<br /><br />Once he got in a comfy position, I distracted him by turning the TV on, reading a couple of books to him, and talking to him about the potty. And suddenly he looked down and said "pee". Never has "pee" sounded so sweet!<br /><br />The best part for him was helping mommy flush the pee down the toilet...that was a big moment. After washing his hands and returning to the <del>toy-filled wonderland</del> living room, he saw the potty and said "a pee i' poddy". So proud, he was.<br /><br />So the first potty day yielded three pees...three pees in a potty. Not too bad. Hopefully his interest in going on the big-boy potty will not wane.<br /><br />Who am I kidding...of course it will....<br /></span>Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-11682604100484315412007-06-22T11:02:00.000-04:002007-06-23T22:58:00.291-04:00Happy Birthday To Me (and my dad)!Happy Birthday to me (<span style="font-style: italic;">and my dad</span>)!<br />Happy Birthday to me (<span style="font-style: italic;">and my dad</span>)!<br />Happy Birthday dear Ca-ate (<span style="font-style: italic;">and Cate's dad</span>)!<br />Happy Birthday to me (<span style="font-style: italic;">and my dad</span>)!<br /><br />Yup...it's my birthday today. But it's also my dad's birthday. Rather than bore you with yet <span style="font-style: italic;">another</span> story about me (although I know you all l-o-v-e them...don't deny it!), I would rather tell you about my dad.<br /><br />My dad was born in Denmark a couple of months after the Nazi occupation began in 1940. He was 5 years old when the Nazis finally retreated from Denmark...I have heard many stories from both my dad and my grandmother about that day. It gives me chills.<br /><br />He and his family moved to a farm in Canada in 1955. Since he was the oldest and his help was needed on the farm, he stayed home and worked while his younger brother and sisters went to school. Dad and his family learned English just by being around English-speaking people. That amazes me.<br /><br />Dad met my mom, who is also Danish, through a mutual friend. And the rest, as they say, is history.<br /><br />I was born on my dad's 34th birthday. I love that. There is no one I would rather share my birthday with...even though he sometimes pretends to forget when my birthday is. Nice try, dad!<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rn3ZEAPr5hI/AAAAAAAAAWs/rlgSYlOD48g/s1600-h/dad+with+newborn+me.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rn3ZEAPr5hI/AAAAAAAAAWs/rlgSYlOD48g/s320/dad+with+newborn+me.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079454617552283154" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">my dad and a freshly new me<br /><br /></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rn3YGAPr5ZI/AAAAAAAAAVs/9i_7AhQ4VB0/s1600-h/dad+and+baby+me.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rn3YGAPr5ZI/AAAAAAAAAVs/9i_7AhQ4VB0/s320/dad+and+baby+me.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079453552400393618" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">my dad adored me...who wouldn't?<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rn3Y8QPr5gI/AAAAAAAAAWk/7iRH_SDKL7U/s1600-h/dad+with+baby+me+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rn3Y8QPr5gI/AAAAAAAAAWk/7iRH_SDKL7U/s320/dad+with+baby+me+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079454484408296962" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">me and my dad...hangin' out</span><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rn3YOwPr5aI/AAAAAAAAAV0/GuPQlo5dmoY/s1600-h/dad+and+me+birthday.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 277px; height: 369px;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rn3YOwPr5aI/AAAAAAAAAV0/GuPQlo5dmoY/s400/dad+and+me+birthday.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079453702724248994" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">my dad's 35th birthday, my 1st<br /><br /></span></div><br />I have so much love, respect and adoration for my dad. He is one of the most generous and caring people I have ever known. He'll give you the shirt off his back if you need it.<br /><br />He is also one of the most intelligent people I've ever know. I am continually amazed by how smart he is. He knows more history and world geography than I could ever hope to know. He can take a tractor <span style="font-style: italic;">completely</span> apart to fix it, and put it back together just by common sense. I've seen it! There were piles of nuts, bolts, washers, thing-a-ma-gigies, what-ya-ma-call-its and everywhere, and he still managed to reassemble it. Incredible.<br /><br />He once helped my brother with his University-level mechanical engineering class. Andrew had been struggling with a calculation...dad stepped in and just....did it. Amazing.<br /><br />All of this with no formal education or training. He's either learned through reading, life experience, or he....he just knows. He's that smart.<br /><br />He's the guy we ask advice from for anything home reno or car related. He's also our most trusted weather man. He watches the weather on all the local channels, and the Weather Network. He's fascinated by weather, and knows all there is to know. If you're wondering what the weather is gonna be like on the West Coast of Canada on Tuesday, in New England next week, or pretty much anywhere in the world....call my dad....he'll know.<br /><br />His nickname is MacGyver. This man can build <span style="font-style: italic;">anything</span> out of <span style="font-style: italic;">anything</span>. Seriously....I kid you not.<br /><br />My dad has an awesome sense of humour....he's a silly silly man! And because of that he's the perfect grandfather for my boys. Really, he's just a big kid at heart.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rn3YugPr5eI/AAAAAAAAAWU/lEl5-QnAN_Q/s1600-h/dad+wedding+hug.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rn3YugPr5eI/AAAAAAAAAWU/lEl5-QnAN_Q/s320/dad+wedding+hug.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079454248185095650" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">my dad gives the best hugs</span><br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rn3YYwPr5bI/AAAAAAAAAV8/QGe2f-e4otg/s1600-h/dad+walk+before+ceremony.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rn3YYwPr5bI/AAAAAAAAAV8/QGe2f-e4otg/s320/dad+walk+before+ceremony.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079453874522940850" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">my dad's a cool cat</span><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rn3Y1QPr5fI/AAAAAAAAAWc/lAZIEdmETc0/s1600-h/dad+wedding+right+before+aisle.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rn3Y1QPr5fI/AAAAAAAAAWc/lAZIEdmETc0/s320/dad+wedding+right+before+aisle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079454364149212658" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">my dad kept me from totally breaking down right before walking down the aisle</span><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rn3YfQPr5cI/AAAAAAAAAWE/te_HMjDdYFU/s1600-h/dad+wedding+dance+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rn3YfQPr5cI/AAAAAAAAAWE/te_HMjDdYFU/s320/dad+wedding+dance+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079453986192090562" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">I am so very lucky that my dad and I are so close, and I will always be grateful for that</span><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rn3YowPr5dI/AAAAAAAAAWM/6dTBtrdVNZs/s1600-h/dad+wedding+dance.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rn3YowPr5dI/AAAAAAAAAWM/6dTBtrdVNZs/s320/dad+wedding+dance.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079454149400847826" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">my dad can always make me smile</span><br /><br /></div><br />Every June 22nd, my dad and I get to call each other and say "Happy Birthday!" and "Happy Birthday to you too!". How many people get to do that?<br /><br />My dad turned 67 today...and he has more fun than most people half his age. He's incredible.<br /><br />Happy Birthday dad....you're truly the best, and I love you so much!Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-78253714468471255322007-06-21T14:15:00.000-04:002007-06-23T14:59:20.985-04:00Yet Another Birthday BoyIt's been a busy couple of months for birthdays, with Zander turning 2 in May and Logan turning 1 a couple of weeks ago. But today there is another Birthday Boy...my little brother.<br /><br />Yes, today is my brother Andrew's 32nd birthday. I thought this would be the perfect day to tell my bloggy friends about my amazing bro.<br /><br />He was born the day before my first birthday....that's right...I turn 33 tomorrow. He is the reason I never had a proper 1st birthday party, since my mother was in the hospital having him...and I've never forgiven him! Just kidding!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnrUoQPr5NI/AAAAAAAAAUM/aPZopRTC3mk/s1600-h/New+Andrew+and+Me.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 290px; height: 305px;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnrUoQPr5NI/AAAAAAAAAUM/aPZopRTC3mk/s400/New+Andrew+and+Me.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078605317834269906" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">my parents proudly show off their newborn son the day he came home from the<br />hospital, while I plot my revenge on this stealer of my attention/adoring audience</span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnrUzAPr5OI/AAAAAAAAAUU/_JZgEfH3F8U/s1600-h/New+Andrew+and+Me+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 295px; height: 309px;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnrUzAPr5OI/AAAAAAAAAUU/_JZgEfH3F8U/s400/New+Andrew+and+Me+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078605502517863650" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">my first attempt on his life...<br />actually, I was giving him a kiss...I couldn't get enough of him from day one</span><br /></div><br />Andrew and I grew up being extremely close. We were so close in age, and we grew up in the middle of farmland Ontario....which translates to the middle of nowhere. There were a few cousins in the same age group who lived close enough that we played with on a regular basis. But mostly it was just us. And that was great. <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">In fact, our closeness in both age and friendship is the reason I chose to have my little boys so close together.<br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnrXbgPr5QI/AAAAAAAAAUk/tbm80hapPPk/s1600-h/Andrew+and+I+reading.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnrXbgPr5QI/AAAAAAAAAUk/tbm80hapPPk/s320/Andrew+and+I+reading.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078608397325821186" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;">reading a story to my little propped-up-by-pillows bro<br />if you ask my mother, she'll tell you how I taught him to read when he was three & I was four<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnrYVwPr5RI/AAAAAAAAAUs/Gd98ixtrSqM/s1600-h/Me+and+my+bro+1976.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnrYVwPr5RI/AAAAAAAAAUs/Gd98ixtrSqM/s320/Me+and+my+bro+1976.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078609398053201170" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">man, we were cute....not sure what happened</span> ;-)<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnrWjQPr5PI/AAAAAAAAAUc/WYtci0N5x6M/s1600-h/Andrew+Me+and+tractor.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 171px;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnrWjQPr5PI/AAAAAAAAAUc/WYtci0N5x6M/s320/Andrew+Me+and+tractor.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078607430958179570" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">the quintessential grew-up-on-a-farm tractor shot<br /></span></div><br />As kids, we didn't fight much. At worst there would be a couple of minutes of name-calling...perhaps a little smack or two on an arm...and then it would be over, never to be thought of again.<br /><br />In high school we seemed to get even closer, which some people found odd. We travelled within some of the same circles, so we ended up hanging out together a lot. Which was always fun.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnsMZgPr5TI/AAAAAAAAAU8/GP32NJilQWY/s1600-h/Our+Prom.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 339px; height: 285px;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnsMZgPr5TI/AAAAAAAAAU8/GP32NJilQWY/s400/Our+Prom.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078666637082354994" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">how many people not only go to the same Prom as their brother, but sit at the same table as their brother?<br />that's me in all my locks-of-blonde glory with my date...<br />Andrew is at the right edge of the photo in his schnazzy bow-tie...handsome, no?</span><br /></div><br />When it was time for University, we both moved to Ottawa to attend U of O. We moved into an apartment together. And we lived together, surprisingly harmoniously, for 5 years. Jaws still drop when I tell people that my brother and I loved living together for that long. Not sure why...isn't it normal to get along with your sibling?<br /><br />I am so grateful that he came to Ottawa with me, because those were some of my toughest years. Less than two years after moving here, I lost my hair. The following year was when my sun allergy cropped up. I remember that first burn...my face so swollen I couldn't open my eyes...so much pain...the burning was incredible...the fear...what the hell was going on? He borrowed a friend's car and took me to the emergency room...and waited with me for hours. He never left my side. He was always there for me. I have thanked him many times, but I don't think I will ever have thanked him enough. I honestly don't think I could have made it through all of it without him. He was by my side through it all.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnrTOAPr5LI/AAAAAAAAAT8/HRKL7vBWdow/s1600-h/All+of+us.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 327px; height: 215px;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnrTOAPr5LI/AAAAAAAAAT8/HRKL7vBWdow/s400/All+of+us.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078603767351076018" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">left-right: my sexy man Carlos, <del>baldie</del> me, Andrew, Chris-Anne<br />this photo was taken at my parents' house<br /></span></div><br />He and his girlfriend (at the time) <span style="font-style: italic;">had</span> to be part of my wedding party, and when he married her Carlos and I were right there by his side. The four of us have become so close, and that makes me so very happy.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnsQxAPr5VI/AAAAAAAAAVM/_WBLwmx0JN4/s1600-h/Wedding+-+the+four+of+us.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnsQxAPr5VI/AAAAAAAAAVM/_WBLwmx0JN4/s320/Wedding+-+the+four+of+us.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078671438855791954" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Andrew and I with our better halves<br />I'm so glad that we're all friends!</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnsP8wPr5UI/AAAAAAAAAVE/pZJkeDmzp48/s1600-h/Wedding+-+Andrew+and+I.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnsP8wPr5UI/AAAAAAAAAVE/pZJkeDmzp48/s320/Wedding+-+Andrew+and+I.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078670541207627074" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Andrew was the most handsome groomsman at the wedding<br />sexy double chin on the bride, wouldn't ya say?<br /><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnsTfQPr5WI/AAAAAAAAAVU/74HHCF9dcgw/s1600-h/hansen_wedding_2005_044.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnsTfQPr5WI/AAAAAAAAAVU/74HHCF9dcgw/s320/hansen_wedding_2005_044.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078674432447997282" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">I'm so glad that they let us be a part of their day<br />left-right: Carlos, my big bad bald chubby post-Zander (who was 4 months old) self,<br />Chris-Anne (who was 6 months pregnant at the time...and somehow she had the energy to dance the night away!), my bro Andrew, my beautiful mother in her homemade gown, and my dapper dad!</span><br /></div><br />Even though his work as a Mechanical Engineer at a paper mill keeps him so busy that he rarely gets time off and is on-call most weekends, he made sure he was here right after Zander was born. That was so important to me. I'm not sure he knows how much.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnrToQPr5MI/AAAAAAAAAUE/L1ytYdL92oY/s1600-h/Andrew+and+Zander+-+May+2005+013.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 326px; height: 244px;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnrToQPr5MI/AAAAAAAAAUE/L1ytYdL92oY/s400/Andrew+and+Zander+-+May+2005+013.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078604218322642114" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Andrew holding an oh-so-tiny 4-day-old Zander for the first time</span><br /></div><br />As we've grown and started our own families, we have ended up in different parts of Ontario. There are almost 300km of highway driving between us. But we still manage to keep in touch as often as possible. Thank God for email and digital cameras! It's so important to me that our kids growing up knowing each other. It's harder to travel now that we have kids, but we try to visit as often as possible. I want the cousins to be close.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnsZogPr5XI/AAAAAAAAAVc/_XOGlNxx5_c/s1600-h/Summer06+059.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnsZogPr5XI/AAAAAAAAAVc/_XOGlNxx5_c/s320/Summer06+059.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078681188431553906" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Andrew with Georgina (his baby girl, my beautiful niece) - 6 months old,<br />Carlos with Zander - 12 months old<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnsbSAPr5YI/AAAAAAAAAVk/oOimb9vo__I/s1600-h/Us+at+Christmas.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/RnsbSAPr5YI/AAAAAAAAAVk/oOimb9vo__I/s320/Us+at+Christmas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078683000907752834" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">All of us and the kids at Christmas<br />Andrew and Chris-Anne are expecting their second child in July...I'm so excited!</span><br /></div><br />After 32 years of ups and downs, he is still one of the best friends I have ever had.<br /><br />Happy Birthday Andrew...I love you so much!Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-44950042056756717262007-06-20T15:37:00.000-04:002007-06-20T16:18:44.296-04:00Getting-House-Ready-For-Sale To Do List<ol><li>purge/sort/organize every room in the house</li><li>marvel at all the crap we have jammed into this tiny house<br /></li><li>pack all non-essentials</li><li>marvel at all the crap we keep that we never use or didn't even know we had<br /></li><li>install new carpet on stairs -- <span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-weight: bold;">CHECK</span></li><li>install new vanity and counter top in main floor half-bath -- <span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-weight: bold;">CHECK</span></li><li>paint main floor half-bath -- <span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-weight: bold;">CHECK</span></li><li>sod front yard -- <span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-weight: bold;">CHECK</span></li><li>build large planter under tree in front yard -- <span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-weight: bold;">CHECK</span></li><li>find homes for our three adorable cats, since it appears that all of use have become allergic to them (hubby with hives and itching watering eyes, me with my asthma, and the boys' eczema seems to get worse when the have touched them)</li><li>cry, and come to terms with losing our furry little friends...our first babies<br /></li><li>paint all ceilings</li><li>go to chiropractor to get back/neck fixed from painting ceilings</li><li>install new exterior light fixtures</li><li>repair and seal driveway</li><li>pack-up/organize and clean garage<br /></li><li>paint upstairs hallway and stairways<br /></li><li>paint cabinets in both upstairs bathrooms</li><li>drop dead from exhaustion</li><li>install tub wall surround over hideous 80's tile in both upstairs bathrooms</li><li>"come down" off of fumes from wall surround adhesive</li><li>paint master bathroom</li><li>install new towel bars in upstairs bathrooms</li><li>paint all interior doors</li><li>paint all window trim</li><li>paint kitchen cabinets</li><li>paint hideous kitchen backsplash tiles</li><li>drop dead from exhaustion <span style="font-style: italic;">again</span></li><li>dig up <del>weeds</del> "lawn" in backyard</li><li>lay patio stones in backyard</li><li>paint fences in backyard</li><li>take a week to recover from excruciatingly painful sun blisters</li><li>wait to regain feeling and use of arms and legs</li><li>clean constantly in order to be ready for showings at the drop of a hat<br /></li><li>pray that <span style="font-style: italic;">someone</span> wants to buy this house</li></ol>My mother is coming on Monday and staying for another week to look after the boys while we work our way through the to-do list. If you don't here from me for a while, <del>call an ambulance</del> <del>check the local hospitals</del> I'm probably <del>in a coma</del> <del>recovering from a near-death experience</del> just resting...Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8355147513470474487.post-81908389249623278262007-06-19T16:20:00.000-04:002007-06-19T16:50:06.477-04:00Pondering The Potty PurchaseThanks to <a href="http://thelifeofcate.blogspot.com/2007/06/calling-all-moms-who-have-successfully.html">all of your wonderful advice</a>, we have a plan of attack for this whole potty training thing. I'm actually quite excited about it...although I'm sure that excitement will soon turn to exasperation. So I'm holding on to this feeling for dear life.<br /><br />After searching through the myriad of potty solutions available, we believe we have made a decision. The <a href="http://booninc.com/potty.html">Boon Potty Bench</a>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rng9_wPr5HI/AAAAAAAAATY/InKAcnwklnU/s1600-h/Boon+Potty+Bench.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9uZtQ57OcI8/Rng9_wPr5HI/AAAAAAAAATY/InKAcnwklnU/s320/Boon+Potty+Bench.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077876745351980146" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It's as bare-bones and sans-bells-and-whistles (literally....no bells, no whistles, no flushing sounds, no songs...this is a silent potty) as you can get and still be loaded with features. Since we are living in a <del>tiny</del> <del>minuscule</del> <del>walls-are-closing-in-on-me</del> small townhouse, the fact that this thing has storage and can be used as a step stool is great. It is also one of the only potties we saw that is actually big enough for Logan's chubby, wider-than-most little bottom...we're thinking to the future here. Don't get me wrong...I love my chubby boy wildly, but let's be honest...kid's got junk in the trunk.<br /><br />Now, if anyone has reason for us not to go with this potty, my ears and eyes are open to reviews/comments....both good and bad. I hold mom-bloggy opinions in very high esteem.<br /><br />So barring any horrifically bad comments about the potty bench, we will probably be getting it soon so that we can familiarize Zander with it before the training begins. And then....well...expect many a poop story in the future.<br /><br />Let the poop fly!Catehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17427389718616405880noreply@blogger.com3